


Braids

by Oneshotshipper



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anna has a tragic bio okay, Canon Divergence, Creepy Huntress, Dark, David King's language, David is pissed and scared and takes it out on the wrong people, Don't know how to fix it, Dwight x Meg, First chapter translations are in the second for some reason now, Format is messed up for translations?, Gen, Gore, Horror, Insanity, Kidnapping?, Psychological Torture, She talks a little, Starvation, Torture, Warning for death because DBD, Will figure it out, but interesting, but not really(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneshotshipper/pseuds/Oneshotshipper
Summary: Meg Thomas had always loved her hair in braids - it came in handy for running on the track and when she went on jogs. But unfortunately for her, someone else liked her braids too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been with this trash game ever since it came out, but never wrote anything about it. I've had this plot dance in my head since the Huntress came out back in July, but simply haven't had time. I had been abroad in Russia when she dropped, and then school started up again. This semester, I'm hoping to write more. If you follow my Star Wars fic, please know I haven't abandoned it! It will be updated very soon hopefully! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Translations for Russian words following the story.

The crackling of a fire was never a good sign. It promised warmth, security, and a false sense of hope, but by this point in time Meg Thomas knew better to breathe. She had wanted so badly to let her eyes fall shut and her exhausted, filthy and bloody body stretch out and take the fire’s comfort. But it was always the same now. Some brief period of respite, so brief that she could sob, and then she’d find herself in the fog-ridden hellhole which she belonged to now. With all the monsters and goddamn murderers to fill it. It was old news, done with. Meg had felt pity for herself first. _What have I done wrong to be in purgatory forever?_ She had thought of her mother, whom she had left in whatever the real world was; sick and alone. Was she dead? Was she, herself dead? It did not matter, and it didn’t matter how many times she evaded hooks and traps, chainsaws, and the bitch in the nurse’s outfit. It was always the same.

At least with a never-ending nightmare, they did not have to be alone. If she hadn’t met her friends, she would have lost all hope a long time ago. She continued to run for her friends, she continued to scream and fight, and do _anything_ to not have that spider demon pierce her body once more. She had felt the pain of being hooked and sacrificed so many times, that when she thought of it, her shoulder burned with remembrance. She always thought back to her track coach, who had beaten her down and kept her on the straight and narrow. _Eyes on the prize, Thomas_ , he would say. And when it came to her friends, Meg kept at it. She knew that it was futile, that she had to be stuck here forever. But there was always hope; hope that one day something would break in the vicious cycle and they would be free. Freedom. It was slight, but it kept her sane, kept her repairing those fucking generators until her hands were covered in oil. It was a game to whatever controlled this place, but the competitive side of Meg yearned to win that game.

With a start, her eyes flew open. No longer was she sitting around a campfire, blissfully not having to worry about a sadistic killer on the loose. That was how she awoke all the time; in the middle of nowhere; a field, an old ironworks building, a hospital even… With no time to waste, she stood quickly, hands already tightened into fists, her eyes fiery and alert. She paused. Listened. No chainsaw. No screeching, no bells. No cruel laughter from that quack. She took a quick glance over her shoulder, before she crouched down into the grass where she had been laying in. _Focus Meg,_ she thought to herself. _You can do this._ Satisfied she was at least safe for the moment, she stood straight again and started carefully walking. Only to realize…

This place was new.

She was startled by the sudden change, the break in what she knew and was at least familiar with, that she felt a new kind of horror all over again. She had no idea of where she was or where she was going. This wasn’t the large estate or the farm house. This was… absolutely new. She adjusted her braids for a brief moment, glad that at least they were always steady. They had been her choice of hairstyle since she had been a small girl, even if they did make her look like a little nerd and more of a middle-schooler than a young woman. It was good for keeping her hair back while she needed to run; tied tightly so it couldn’t be grabbed. Memories of Laurie and Claudette falling backwards, their long locks yanked, and the girls being pulled into the waiting arms of a murderer filled her mind. She nervously fixed her loose hair, trying to not think about the few times that had happened.

“Breathe, Meg,” she reminded herself, inhaling. Satisfied that her hair was in place, she cautiously continued forward in a direction where she saw a small wooden shack. Drops of rain began to fall from the sky, and she didn’t like that it made the fog seem worse than it was. Shivering slightly, she stepped out of the dark grass and poked her head around the open door. Another campfire. Great. It was dim, like it had been lit a while ago, and the carcasses of dead animals hung from the ceiling. Old Meg would have retched at the smell of the rotting deer. She had when she first ended up at the mysterious farm; the odor of cows and pigs had made her violently ill. But new Meg had a much greater constitution. She simply stared, unimpressed, before she left the shack once more, heading back into the now-steadily falling rain. It was someone’s hunting cabin; usually used. But it was old and rundown. She didn’t want to stay there to find out who used it.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked through the new woods, glancing at every sound she thought she heard. She had no idea of where she was going, and the rain had soaked through her shirt. If she could undo anything from the hellish experience, it would have been to choose a fucking sweatshirt on that last evening jog. Now she was stuck wearing this top that didn’t offer much protection or warmth at all. She let out a sigh of relief as she spotted a generator; quickening her pace to get to it.

_Remember what Dwight said_. It was all about how you connected the wires and adjusted the jammed gears. She knelt, and forgoing fear about being electrocuted in the rain, she began to work. Thinking of Dwight put a small smile on her face, even in her situation. She loved when she was in this with him; she gave him courage to run, and he gave her the knowledge and guidance to get shit done. He was shy and sweet, and generally such a good guy that Meg firmly believed they were not in Hell. They couldn’t be, otherwise there was no way Dwight would be here. She glanced around her briefly, before returning to work. She wondered who else would be stuck here this time. Claudette or maybe Jake? Jake was so daring and brave, and many times, he had distracted the killer. And Claudette was an angel; helping Meg off the hook so many times she lost count. Easing the searing pain of the tear in her shoulder. And then there was Nea, with her spitfire attitude that Meg got along so well with. Laurie with her resourcefulness. Ace with his humor and pure luck that she was envious of. Gruff Bill and determined Min. Her friends made her heart swell with protectiveness and an eagerness to get out of here.

Everything was fine before she heard a twig snap off in the distance. Her heart beat rapidly, and by now, she knew better to call out names stupidly. She learned that from the fucker in the white mask. Michael, Laurie had said. Regardless if he was her brother or not, Michael could go burn in hell for all she cared. Terror gripping her soul, she darted from the generator and took refuge behind a wide tree. The footsteps got closer to her generator, sloshing in mud that was beginning to form in the dirt. God damn rain. It had never rained before. She stopped breathing as the footsteps stopped by the generator, and she tensed to sprint off at the first sign of sharp teeth, or glowing eyes or –

“What the bloody fuck is this shit?” An accented voice called out to no one in particular, and Meg nearly blinked in confusion. New, her mind screamed. Feng Min wasn’t the newbie to their little group of misery anymore. She sagged against the tree in relief at the seemingly normal voice. She heard a slight kick to the generator, and a muffled curse, “’Gotta be pissed out of my mind.”

She swallowed thickly, “You’re not. This is all real.” She slowly rose and made herself known, moving from out behind her hiding place.

“Jesus fuck!” he exclaimed, before he narrowed his eyes at her. Tough guy, she thought. “I’d normally say that you’re a sight for sore eyes, aren’t you love? But at the mo, I got no idea what the fuck is going on.” He looked tensed for a fight, rugged jaw held tightly, muscular build angled in a way that he’d jump the nearest thing that threatened him.

“We’re in a nightmare,” she replied, stepping up to him. Sizing him up, Meg wondered if he’d make a good ally to have. He naturally seemed to be able to fight; which might come in handy in this situation. “I don’t have time to explain, but I’ll talk over this generator,” she told him, kneeling back down to begin repairing it again. She gave him a pointed look, “You should help me with this. You see we have to connect-”

“I know how to do this shit,” he told her, “I’m a scrapper.”

“Good,” Meg replied, “Then start doing it. I’m serious, we’re on limited time here.”

The man stared at her for a moment, probably wondering whether obeying her would disrupt his masculine image. Meg rolled her eyes and wiped her wet forehead with her elbow. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment, kneeling to help her with her task. He was silent a moment as the machine began to whirl to life. His silence didn’t last long. “So. Where the fuck are we, girl? Last thing I remember I was drunk off my arse.” He swallowed, thinking. “Walking back from a pub.”

“That’s how most of us got here,” she told him. “Out for a walk, going somewhere sketchy.” Meg took another glance at him, eyeing the scar on his face. “We’re in… some sort of world that’s not our own.” He gave her a flat look and she sighed. “It sounds crazy, but it’s true. We’re somewhere like places in our world, but it’s not. This place is wrong.”

“I noticed,” he replied. “But I believe you. Ya sound like you know more than me anyway. What’s the deal with these things?”

“It’s some fucked-up game,” Meg replied solemnly. “We need to repair all we find and get the hell out. We’re trapped here until we do.” She didn’t have the heart to tell the new guy yet that all of them were trapped here _permanently._  

He paused, “What the hell is keeping us trapped? If it’s some sicko twat, I can beat the bleedin’ shit out of him.”

She laughed humorlessly. “You’re on the right track, but…. You can’t fight them. They’re… psychos. Monsters. H-Hell, some of them are even fucking ghosts,” she told him. “I’ve done this so many times. They want to kill us. And then if they catch us, they throw us on a hook to appease some sort of monster that chips part of our soul away.” Meg said this so matter-of-factly that she even surprised herself. She had to be numb to this by now.

“Very fucking funny.” He stopped working to glare at her accusingly.

“… I’m not kidding,” and she gestured back to the mess of wires. “That’s why we really need to repair them. If I was you, I’d keep connecting red to blue.”

“Oh shit,” the man simply swore. “Oh god, you’re serious ‘ere aren’t you?”

“Very. There’s more of us here somewhere. Usually four. If we work together, we can get out of here. My friends have saved my ass loads of times.” _Until next time at least._

“I work alone, sweetheart,” he told her. “I can’t be mithered with friends anyway.”

She shrugged, gritting her teeth. She didn’t have time to explain the ways of this world to the newcomer. If he wanted to be obstinate and annoying and waste time trying to be tough, she couldn’t stop him. He’d figure it out like they all did. “Then you’re going to die. Guaranteed.”

He was quiet for a long time, before he started working steadily again with a sharp nod.

“David King,” he grumbled out.

“Meg Thomas.” David. Poor, poor David didn’t know what was coming for him. They worked in an amicable silence surprisingly, and the generator was getting underway really quickly, the pleasant, loud sound of its fan whirring. They would have one done this quickly!

When suddenly, David spoke. “What the hell is that humming?” She stopped, but over the generator it was hard to hear.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, her voice in a whisper. Her ears strained and she picked up the eerie sound of a woman humming. It would have been almost soothing had Meg not been here. It almost sounded like … lullaby of sorts, the woman’s gentle voice nearly projecting through the woods. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, and Meg felt the familiar feeling of trepidation and apprehension creeping up on her. Something wasn’t right about that voice, but she could not explain what. “We need to hide,” she blurted out quickly, already stepping away. “Now, David!” She snapped.

“This bitch is one of those psychos? I could probably break her in ‘alf,” he said dangerously.

“David! I don’t know! I’ve never heard that before.” Whatever it was, it was coming, the singing growing louder.

“Alright!” He snapped in turn, crouching in the tree adjacent to Meg. “But if I think I can take her, ‘imma do it.” Meg could not comment because it was too late, her breath stolen away from her as she peeked from behind her tree.

She had to be largest woman that Meg had ever seen in her life. She was built like a lumberjack, strong and big-boned. Completely muscular and tall. Much larger than the Hag or the Nurse. She stalked towards the generator, and Meg saw her more clearly; in a fucking bunny mask that should have looked silly. What kind of killer wore a rabbit mask? But on her, it made her look demented and terrifying. And perhaps scariest of all; she still looked way too human compared to many of the other monsters Meg had faced. She carried hatchets on her belt, and Meg’s heart plummeted. Another thing for her to be hit with; like the sting of a machete or a cleaver.  _Oh god help me_. She was dressed like a hunter, and probably camped out in that small shack Meg had seen earlier. And she was still humming; the disturbing melody echoing in her ears.

“… Не ложися на краю. Придёт серенький волчок,” the woman whispered the lyrics as she studied the generator. She had sung those in a foreign language, one that Meg didn’t care or want to care about. She had sung very little, before she was back to her humming again. The rabbit woman began to search, her large axe in both of her hands as she made circles around the area. Sweat gathered at Meg’s brow, as she silently moved to another tree. David was still, studying the woman intently.

She would have been home free, until her foot slipped in the mud, and made an audible splashing sound. Meg fought herself from gasping. The woman had stopped humming. She stood rim rod straight, turned away from Meg, before suddenly whirling around and heading straight for her tree. _No please_ , she thought, _go the fuck away from me!_ Three seconds. Meg tensed and prepared to take off fast. She seemed slow, she seemed not very agile. She could outrun her!

Without warning, the heavy axe cut into the tree above Meg’s head. And she screamed, terrified for the first time in a while. The woman slid herself around the tree trunk and boxed her in. Meg couldn’t move, a large hand coming to grasp at her throat.

“David!” She cried, but he was frozen to his spot, mouth agape. And suddenly… the axe was removed from where it lodged itself in the tree. The pressure remained around her throat as the rabbit mask tilted in near-confusion if Meg was seeing things correctly.

_Oh god, I’m going to die. Again. Now she’s going to take one of her hatchets and ram it into my skull. Oh please, David. Fucking do something!_

The hit she was expecting never came. The woman laid her axe by the side of her, and Meg glanced between it and her in pure terror. Could she grab it? Could she fight back? If she could just get free! Slowly, her other hand drifted upwards and Meg tensed, flinching back. She was going to choke her out! But the woman instead raised her hand and gently touched one of Meg’s braids. Her heart was racing in her chest, but the woman just gazed down at her in pure interest.

“Милая девушка,” the killer finally spoke, her voice lower in pitch than her singing voice. Her voice sounded off, like it wasn’t used that often. “Красивая милая девушка.” Meg was shaking like a leaf, as most of the killers never really spoke to them. Usually because they were too busy trying to fucking murder them. She had no idea of what this lady was saying, but it really couldn’t be that good. She patted at her braids again, and started humming the gentle song once more.

“W-What are you doing?” Meg shakily asked, turning her face away as she released her grip on Meg’s neck so both of her hands could soothingly fiddle with the braids on both sides of her head. She was afraid to run now; afraid to move at all, unless she break the moment where she didn’t seem to want to harm her. She couldn’t understand any of this, and was sure the killer didn’t understand what she was saying.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Meg wondering why the fuck she didn’t run the moment her foot slipped. Quickly, the hunter seized her wrists in a vice-like grip and lifted her upwards. That was when she started to fight, panic seizing her heart as she dragged her feet in the mud. The killer muttered something in her song, squeezing her wrist so tightly as she started to drag her away that it felt like it would break. She grabbed Meg’s wrist in one hand, changing them out so she could pick up her fallen axe.

“David! Please!” Meg finally shrieked, finding her voice. Oh god, what was wrong with this lady?!

She didn’t expect the man who claimed to be out for himself quickly dart out from where he had been crouched. “Hey! Cunt!” He spat. “Fuckin’ let us the fuck out of ‘ere you crazy bitch! Let her go!” The Huntress froze again, her singing stopped. “I don’t give a shit! Come and get me!” And almost immediately, her demeanor changed when she heard David’s voice. While she probably could not understand English, there was no doubt she understood that as an insult to her.

With an angry cry that sounded near-animalistic, she whirled back around, still holding onto a struggling Meg. With a fast movement, she hurled a hatchet straight at David’s head with practiced ease, and he had barely enough time to duck down as it soared where his face had been seconds ago.

“Run!” Meg cried out to him, this woman’s adept skill with her hatchets changing everything entirely. She could throw them?! The woman finally released her, staring at her for a moment, before she darted right for David, heavy axe back in hand. “David, get out of here!” And taking her own opportunity, she sprinted off in the other direction, the woman’s grunts of rage disappearing as she ran farther into the woods. “Oh god, oh god,” she shook her head as she run, her hair feeling like a burden now rather than an advantage. 

_God, why was she so obsessed with my hair? What the actual hell happened back there?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a lot longer than expected, and ended up being /longer/ than expected. Next chapter will definitely be the last, but I wanted to build up more to the final confrontation. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, translations at the end. Special thanks to Kamshat_Nurlanova for the corrections of my Russian last chapter.

Meg sprinted with ease, forcing her breath to come out in even tones. Darting through the misty woods, through the bushes and branches that scraped against her legs was familiar to her; one of the only things that was in this nightmare trial. _Fuck that lady_ , she thought bitterly to herself, concern for David urging her to run backwards. But what could she expect to do against her? It was never a good idea to taunt the killers; to try and run at them by force. They would win every single time with their brute strength and supernatural powers. In order to survive, you had to be fast, quiet, determined. And just plain lucky at times.

And that was what she had to be. The rain was chilling, despite the sweat that had formed at her brow. She wiped her face, willing herself to remain calm. David… She was damned if she ran back to help him, and damned if she did not. _Stay safe new guy,_ she thought. She would return later, hopefully to find him and help him through this. She just hoped he could run faster than the Huntress could.

The fog seemed to be extra thick and overbearing today; though it might have been from the rain continuing to pour down overhead. It gave the whole forest a surreal, blue, sort of feel; that reminded Meg somewhat of her favorite jogs in the rain.

“Would be perfect if we didn’t have a psycho on our ass,” the young woman grumbled to herself, checking once more over her shoulder, before she continued onwards, stepping over the brushes and twigs in her path, until the sound of a slight whirring in the distance caught her attention and filled her with a new sense of hope. Heart lifting from its melancholy, she sped up her pace again, and stepped into another clearing; another old building. This was larger than the other one she had seen previously. The large dwelling had creaky stairs, open windows (which she noted in case she had to vault over them), and as she approached, Meg noted that this seemed like a place in which someone lived, rather than hunted. _Her actual home?_ She didn’t check the inside of the house, some odd sense of foreboding coming over her, and instead took the creaky wooden stairs up the side of the shack. She stepped lightly, peered around the corner… And her two friends were waiting for her; working on the generator that sat on the roof.

“Guys!” Meg exclaimed in relief, small smile settling as she laid eyes on Dwight and Jake. "Man, am I happy to see you.”

“Meg!” Dwight said, taking a moment to stand from his work on the generator. He pushed up his glasses to view her better, and they had to be covered in water from the rain at this point. It was kind of adorable. He stood and hurried over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “We’re almost done with this one,” he said. “But this place…” he paused, swallowing to look around nervously. “This is really creeping me out.”

“You’re not the only one,” she said, taking a moment to gently soothe over his hand, patting it reassurance. Maybe in another life… But there was no time now to do anything except survive. “I’ll help you guys finish. Then I have a story for you.” She told them, taking one last moment to wrap her hands around Dwight, allowing a quick hug. _It’s gonna be okay._

She stepped away and really wanted nothing more than to pretend they weren’t here. Maybe just hug Dwight forever and ignore everything else. Meg often imagine what would happen if they all got of here. Maybe she’d ask Dwight on a date; a real one where they weren’t covered in blood and dirt. It made her smile whenever she thought of it, made her flush slightly with excitement as she imagined the two of them just going to a movie or a restaurant. So normal, but she craved it more than anything.

Jake had been respectfully quiet until they returned to the generator. He was usually a pretty chill and quiet guy, which Meg appreciated on occasion – he knew how to keep calm and collected. “Hello Meg,” he finally greeted as she squatted down by the generator, which was getting louder and louder by the second.

“Hey Jake,” she replied in turn. “Good to see you.” She didn’t know how to tell them about her experiences, about what she had just seen. Because she still didn’t understand it herself. They worked in amicable silence for a long moment, until the machine finally popped with a loud, wonderful sound and the light overhead turned on, signaling its completion.

“One down, four to go,” Dwight said, wringing his hands together in a way that Meg assumed was one of his nervous habits. “W-Wanna stick together with us?” He asked her hopefully, as if she’d say no.

“Yeah, of course.” She told him. She fixed a strand of hair that had come free, only reminding her of their predicament. “…Hey guys?” She prompted, as the three of them walked back inside the house to take shelter from the rain. Inside was as creepy as anything, and Meg paused. Dilapidated, like the hunting shack had been, it was like something from a hundred years ago. Old tables, large fireplace that should have been warm and comforting. Pots, decorative antlers on the wall. The only thing ruining the picture were the few modern lockers in the house, which she assumed the spider demon had placed in there for them. Like they ever worked anyway to hide in.

“Woah,” Jake commented, as he had taken the lead. He was downstairs and he crouched down behind a small corner. “…You two might want to look at this,” he gestured them over, and Dwight reluctantly followed, hands clenching and unclenching in his nervousness as he glanced around. The two stepped to where the other young man was, and all fell silent in terrified horror.

“W-What… is _that?_ ” Dwight asked, and Meg could hear the beginnings of a tremor in his voice. Before them was a bloodied corner in this hellish shack. A small skeleton laid on the floor; forgotten and seemingly ancient. Surrounding the skeleton, there were rags covered with old blood, and most disturbingly rusty shackles hanging from the wall next to it.

“Is… Is that a child?” Meg herself asked, noting the size of the skeleton. It wasn’t even as big as she was, and she was quite slender and small for her age.

“I don’t know,” Jake replied, suddenly looking very ill. He wiped an arm across his forehead, standing back up to full height. “I don’t even want to know what happened here.” But Meg knew something about this place was different than what they normally experienced. Bile rose in her throat as she finally looked away from the macabre scene in front of her. The Huntress had to have done this; killed an innocent child whose remains were trapped in the creature’s realm. Meg wondered about this poor child and what their life had been like prior to meeting the killer. Did they have family looking everywhere for them? Or was it so long ago that no one could remember a little one who had gone missing in the forest? After all, the remains looked like they had been here for a very long time.

“Jesus Christ,” Dwight couldn’t help but utter, backing away from both of them. He took a deep breath and leaned outside the open window nearby in order to breathe in cleaner air. “Who could have done this? I-It doesn’t seem like the work of the Trapper guy.”

“Or the Wraith,” Jake added.

“She’s new,” Meg finally explained. “Someone we’ve never fought against before. She’s like… A Huntress. She has a bunch of axes and…” she paused. “I saw her. She saw me.” She finally began to tell her nerve-wracking experience of meeting David and coming face-to-face with the killer herself.  She told them of her terrifying lullaby, the gentle humming that evaporated when she began to search for them. Dwight and Jake seemed interested at the mention of their possible new ally, as was to be expected. They had to stick together and help each other out.

“What happened next Meg?” Jake asked in curiosity, noting her pallid features and the way her hands clenched as she finally neared the climax of her tale.

“She talked to me.”

“What?!” Dwight exclaimed, “What did she say?!”

“I… I really don’t know.” Meg admitted. “She was speaking in a different language. Russian or something? I don’t know guys. It was freaky as fuck,” the young woman even subconsciously ran a hand down a misplaced strand of soaked hair. The rain even seemed to come down harder. “She didn’t immediately try to kill me. It was like… Like she was admiring my hair or some shit.” But that couldn’t be right, could it?!

“…” Both of the guys were silent as Meg elaborated, spilling the chilling details of the woman’s voice gently speaking to her. Of her fawning over her braids and her attempt to drag her to god knew where.

“Then she like… snapped at David’s voice.” She told them. She paused, “…We really should get going before I finish. Dwight’s right. This place is creepy.” The three friends silently left the ominous house, before trekking back into the misty and wet forest in search of generators. Meg continued, absentmindedly kicking a stone in her path. “She let me go.” And she herself felt some sort of wonder at retelling the story. Was it really a miracle? Or was something more going on here? Or was this lady simply fucking insane? “It sounds crazy,” she breathed with a forced laugh, “Now that I’m saying it out loud. She let me go, and she… darted after David like a predator on the hunt. Just like any other killer in this place.”

“That’s really strange,” Jake commented. “There has to be a reason for that. They don’t just ‘let us go.’” He turned to Dwight, who had been silent for a long time. “What do you think of that, Dwight? Any guesses?”

He shook his head, and Meg could barely see his eyes from the rain that covered his glasses. _What a nerd_ , she thought in amusement to herself. “I have no idea.” He said. “I’m just glad that she did let you go.” He quickened his pace to catch up with the slightly faster Meg. He shrugged, “Maybe she just really hates dudes?” It seemed like this time around it would just be Meg, and so it would have been impossible to test this hypothesis by using any of the other girls. Not that Meg would have ever wanted any of her friends to be used as guinea pigs for an unstable killer.

“Maybe…” She replied, sounding unsure. “I just really don’t want to run into her again.” And they all fell into silence, as they were all accustomed to doing. They didn’t have to speak to communicate or keep each other calm. When it was too dangerous, they signaled to each other, they dug letters in the ground, they did anything and everything possible to keep hidden. They walked in comradery, all of them listening closely for any sound of humming.

They found their next generator rather quickly. A brief feeling of hope arose in Meg’s heart. The faster they repaired, the faster they got away. That was how it always had been, and it wasn’t about to change because of some fucked-up huntress. She kneeled back on the ground, nose scrunching up when the cold mud pressed against her leg. Meg had barely even touched the generator, when a blood-curdling scream startled all three of them. She jumped, looking in the direction of where it came from. It felt like her bones were chilled with ice and fear. A very loud, booming, terrified, _male_ scream coming from deeper in the woods.

“Oh my god!” Meg exclaimed, that guilt coming back really quickly. “That’s David! And I… I left him there! I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” Dwight interrupted, staring at her with determination. “This isn’t your fault! You and I both know t-that you can’t always help. You did what you could.” He said it with such conviction, that it didn’t even give her a moment to feel bad about the situation.

“I got him,” Jake volunteered. And Meg was almost jealous at how unafraid he always sounded. It really wasn’t fair. “You two start on this one. Besides,” And before they could even argue, Jake was up and already moving in the direction of the scream. He gave a small smile, “I have to know what I’m up against. And save the new guy in the process.”

“Godspeed, Park,” Dwight muttered in disbelief, shaky hands returning to the wires. He blinked as if remembering something, quickly called out to Jake’s retreating form. “Bring him back here if you can! I snagged some old bandages from a med-kit I found earlier!” Dwight had recently taking to just shoving anything he found his large pockets instead of carrying the item itself. Why they found strange items in this place, Meg had no idea. It seemed counterintuitive for the creature to put all that stuff here. But, there was nothing like being injured or tired, and finding something that could help them survive. Maybe it was that hope thing again. Maybe the demon liked to see them happy before they died as a sick joke. Who knew? She wasn’t going to question it.

“Thanks Dwight,” Meg finally replied as they got to work again. “I feel… just bad for him, you know? Being the new guy.”

“Yeah,” he commented, “But you can’t blame yourself. We don’t have time to sit down and explain everything to everyone.” Out of context, it seemed morbid and kind of apathetic, but they really had no choice. “Unless… We die too.”

She nodded, “Yeah. Hopefully he’ll learn like Feng Min.” And even now, despite her limited time in the fog, Min was one of a kind, headstrong and able to survive on her own most of the time. And she even gave Meg a run for her money when it came to speed and agility.

“Exactly.” They worked and worked, until the generator reached that critical point, and closer… closer… But a startling sound interrupted their progress. A loud _pop_!

“Fuck, sorry,” Meg swore, reeling back from the small explosion, head turned so she wouldn’t inhale the smoke. Wrong wire.

“It’s okay,” Dwight replied, hand over his chest like he’d nearly had a heart attack. They waited for the smoke to clear, before they quickly started repairing again. He laughed, “Wasn’t expecting that, because we were almost there.” And sure enough, seconds after stating it, the generator was completely fixed, a pleasant humming rather than the unwanted, ominous one. She stood, pants completely covered in mud and rain and what she wouldn’t give for a hot bubble bath. Her mom always liked one too on her bad, sick days when Meg had to stay home and pay close attention to her to make sure… She fought the tears again. _Come on Meg¸_ she thought. _Everyone else here is missing people too._ But she wondered if anyone else had a terminally ill mother that relied on her to be taken care of. That relied on her for medicine, or to help her out of bed, or to help with chores and making dinners.

“Hey,” Dwight said gently, looking at her, and without a doubt noticing the tears, despite the rain. He knew her well by now. “You okay?”

She nodded, sniffing slightly and rubbing a hand over her face. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” She really didn’t want to talk about it. “Just… wondering if Jake’s alright with David.” And before Dwight could say anything, they heard two sets of footsteps approaching. And speak of the Devil…

“Get ‘yer hands off of me! I can walk fine on my own!” David’s pained, gruff voice broke through first, as if he was speaking with his teeth gritted.

The two of them emerged from behind the large tree, Jake unscathed from his rescue attempt, and David… Well. Like any other killer, he had a large, ugly gash on his shoulder from where he had been hooked. The Huntress must have gotten an axe there too, as the flesh was mangled and his jacked ripped apart. Ouch.

Poor Jake was even walking slowly to match pace with the injured David. He held up his hands placating, “Man, relax! I just saved your life.”

“I’ll bloody relax when I’m out of this fucking place,” he muttered bitterly, and still no one moved to tell him of their true situation, not that Meg could blame them. For one, he was a relatively a scary person. Like, he would have been the guy Meg quickly walk past on the street if she was coming back from a late jog. He would have been the guy she kept her house key out for in case he was creep.

“Fair enough,” Dwight chirped up, drawing David’s attention to him, as the older man eyed him and sized him up. The younger swallowed, “Uh hi?” He didn’t offer his hand. “My name’s Dwight Fairfield. That’s Jake, and you already met Meg.” His eyes fell on her, and shouldn’t have unnerved her as much as it did. Was he pissed at her for running off?

“Ah. The cunt who left me to die when I saved her?” Oh. Yep. He was.

“Hey!” Dwight snapped in her defense, before could she even respond. “Don’t call her that!”

David was holding his shoulder, clearly in severe pain. And it was all because of her. She shouldn’t have involved him, or cried out for his help. “It’s what she is, mate,” He said. He glared daggers at her, and Meg glared back at him, anger bubbling up out of nowhere. Dwight stepped slightly in front of her, as if in defense, and David nearly laughed. “Boy, if I wasn’t in the utter shitter right now, I’d fuck you up.”

Meg snapped and pushed Dwight off to the side so she could get right into his personal space. “Hey asshole! Knock it the fuck off! There wasn’t anything I could have done to help you unless you wanted me on the ground next to you!” He was bigger than she was, and threatening. But no more than some street thug.

“Ya could’ve warned me, sweetheart!” He yelled back, and in their shouting match, Jake looked around nervously, watching for any signs of trouble. “And take one step more to me, and bitch or not, I’m knocking you on your arse!”

“I did!” Meg exclaimed. “I warned you, and… Surprise, tough guy! You didn’t believe me when I said they were unbeatable!” She crossed her arms at the threat and was tempted to take a step just so he’d initiate the fight. When she was in middle school, before she got into track for a positive outlet, Meg was rambunctious and got into a few fights of her own. To think, she might have ended up like this douchebag here. “And what?!” She yelled, “What are you going to do with a fucked-up arm?!” She asked him.

“Guys…” Jake spoke quietly.

“It’s why I’ve got two hands, love!” But even as he spoke, trying to pose himself with power and dignity, he nearly buckled from the current pain he was in.

“You can’t even hold yourself up!” She snapped, and sighed, some of her anger fading away just a little.

“Guys…”

“Okay, look,” she interrupted Jake again. “We can’t win like this, David. I’m sorry for running, alright? I really am. But there was… _nothing_ I could have done to help you until after you were hooked.” He was silent. “I meant it before. These are monsters, and we need to work together. And I get that this whole thing like… completely fucks up your image of being a strong man.”

“Hey, what the hell does that-?”

“But you really can’t be a dick right now. You can’t be all tough and expect to live.” His aggressive stance momentarily softened, and David was listening to her rather than wanting to fight her. Which she supposed was a start at their newfound alliance. “Dwight can help you out, if you let him. He’s got bandages for your shoulder.”

Finally, Jake’s voice rose with panic. “Guys!” They all turned to look at him, and he managed a hard look at both of them, “Shut up! Listen.” And they all did. Sure enough, the soft humming was again heard through the trees. “Shhh…” He warned, and without further conflict, all four of them hid, Dwight already reaching into his pocket to pull out the bandages. He and David moved together, the man’s grunts of pain more audible as he moved, and Meg tensed as the familiar figure rounded the corner around the trees.

The Huntress stopped, her axe in both hands as she surveyed the area. Again, she was like a predator hunting for her prey. The faint sounds of bandages being applied reached Meg’s ears and she grit her teeth in panic. She glanced from her hiding spot, Jake’s cautious hand resting on her shoulder. _Don’t._ But The Huntress suddenly whirled around in Dwight and David’s direction, and her heart leapt in her chest. More out of concern for Dwight of course, but no matter how much of a dick David was, he did not deserve to be hacked apart by a rusty axe. Not again.

And as the Huntress moved towards them with almost a sinister, knowing gait, her humming stopped as she concentrated, Meg knew that she could potentially test her luck again, even as the thought made primal fear curl down her body in a full shudder. She brushed a braid back into place over her shoulder, determination setting in. Besides, how often had her friends led the killer on a merry chase to lead them away from her? And despite the self-sacrifice and love for her friends, there was also a deep rooted curiosity of why the Huntress had not tried to hook her before. If she did not want to kill her for some reason, perhaps Meg could use that for her own decision.

Determined, and with a rush of courage or foolishness or both, Meg darted out, her own footsteps covering Jake’s gasp of surprise. She stood her ground, teeth gritted and fists clenched like she was defying the spider creature himself, she stood before the Huntress and called out, “Hey!” The large woman turned around at the sound of her voice, keenly focused on Meg herself. She lifted her chin, “That’s right! Eyes on me!” And Meg could not feel more grateful for the fact that she didn’t understand English. The Huntress, axe still in hand, stared at her for a long moment, as if debating something. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, as she had that fucking stupid mask on. Like the Trapper. “You want me, right?!” Meg taunted further, pressing her own attack. As if she somehow knew what she was saying, the Huntress’ attention fell completely from David and Dwight and she started towards Meg with a purposeful stride. “Come and get me!” She finally exclaimed, and sprinted off as the killer reached for her.

“Meg!” Dwight shouted in alarm, but neither of them paid him any heed.

The woman gave a strange, frustrated sound. Like a groan mixed with almost some messed up playful pout, and took off after her. Meg darted through the trees and the rains, legs stinging from scratching against branches and thorns, but that wasn’t going to stop her. _Gotta reach that finish line living_ , she thought to herself. One foot, next foot. _Run, Run, Run._ Sparing a glance behind her, Meg nearly gasped as the distance the Huntress had covered on her, and it only inspired her to run faster. She vaulted over a gap in ruined walls, just in time before a hand missed her. Tried to grab her and failed. Steadying her pants, she turned and weaved and dodged with an expert athleticism that resulted from years of endurance training. Bless her coach.

“Ты не можешь бежать, моя зайка…” She gently teased, not even seeming to be affected by their chase at all. A soft laugh echoed through the walls, as Meg cleared past the walls, noting with a bit of fear as she ended up in the clearing near the shack once more. There was nothing around here that she could hide behind, and both of them had to know that fact. She wondered what the hell was going through the lady’s mind about her at the moment.

When suddenly, Meg heard an audible ‘swoosh’ through the air, and a moment later, searing pain developed in her lower leg, the young woman crying out in agony as she collapsed to the ground, and turned in horror to see one of her smaller axes had lodged itself in her lower ankle, basically crippling her entirely. Blood gushed from her wound, making her swoon a bit from sickness, and she desperately with a cry of pain, pulled the axe from her leg.

“Fuck!” She screamed, panting, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Fuck, fuck!” Her leg didn’t feel broken, as she had broken it once before when she was younger and it felt a lot different from this. But she could clearly see the wound was deep, and when she quickly tried to scamper up, she really couldn’t move from the ground. She was bleeding out, and the immense pain felt like her leg had been shattered from the Huntress’ throw. Strong arms gripped her by lifting her up under her shoulders like she weighed nothing. Agony rippled through her at being moved; being pulled into the killer’s grasp. “Let go of me!” She screamed.

“Прости меня,” she muttered quietly into Meg’s ear, completely leaving the bloodied axe left on the ground. Meg struggled despite her injuries, teeth gritted sharply as she attempted to wiggle out of her grasp. “Я не могу играть в твою игру навсегда.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!” Meg screamed at her, even as the Huntress only shushed her gently, despite what she had just done to her. Her infuriating humming began anew again, as she continued to touch Meg; hands running down her hair again, holding her to her chest like some sort of little infant. Tears finally started pooling down Meg’s face miserably; hating the Huntress and hating this entire place more than anything she’d ever hated in her life. “W-Why are you so fucking weird?!” She snapped at her. It was fucked-up, but she actually wished now that the Huntress was just like any other the killer, rather than presenting her with this unknown.

And she muttered what sounded like another apology, holding her wiggling body tighter, as she wrapped her hands around Meg’s throat. She was choking her! Meg thrashed more, and the Huntress only gazed down at her without any emotion behind that mask of hers. Did she go through all of this for the woman to simply choke the life out of her, rather than even sacrifice her with a chance of getting off the hook? She scratched at her hands desperately as she airily gasped for breath, dark spots dancing in her vision as she couldn’t fucking _breathe._

_God Dwight, please help me._

“Cпокойной ночи и сладкие мечты,” she muttered sweetly to her, hands increasing the pressure around her throat, the world swirling in Meg’s vision until she fell unconscious, her last feeling being thrown over the Huntress’ shoulders like a sack of potatoes. At least that was familiar to the rest of the killers, she thought as all she knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ты не можешь бежать, моя зайка… - You cannot run, my little rabbit (зайка is the diminutive/affectionate form of hare/bunny) 
> 
> Прости меня - Forgive me
> 
> Я не могу играть в твою игру навсегда - I cannot play your game forever. 
> 
> Cпокойной ночи и сладкие мечты - Goodnight, and sweet dreams. (unsure of this one exactly. Please correct me if I happen to be wrong).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for following, reading, and commenting on this story! It now comes to an end and I hope I did the horror genre even a bit of justice! Thanks for riding the crazy train and enjoy the final chapter. Translations at the end. I still apologize for the weird format for those, I don't know what went wrong.

_Oh my god, Jake I found her! Meg, wake up!_

_She’s tied up really good, can’t get the knot- find something sharp._

_Jake’s gone…_

_I knew I was a right prick, sweetheart. Uh. Meg. And ‘m sorry. I get it now. But you really gotta wake up._

_David, she’s coming back!_

With a sudden start, Meg’s eyes opened, panic from her last memory setting in quickly as she automatically began to gulp for air greedily. She panted with unsteady breaths, slowly coming back into reality. Her throat ached, which was understandable being what she last remembered. The bitch had strangled her into unconsciousness she recalled with righteous indignation. She coughed, and part of her neck itched. With a heavy groan, she attempted to reach up and massage what must have been a line of bruises on herself. She was sore and in pain, but she found she could not move her arms. She blinked in confusion, and once the dizziness and lethargy was cleared after a few moments, she turned her head and saw her arms were tied to a wall with a thick rope.

“What the…” she rasped, her voice sounding like some middle-aged smoker or some shit from what the Huntress had done to her. She tugged at the ropes, but she wasn’t exactly expecting them to budge. She strained forward, but choked suddenly and realized that she was tied tightly at the neck as well, the rope fastening her to the wall and making her head basically immovable. Panic set it and she glanced all around her with growing unease, recognizing it as the large house she had been in before. She was in that corner of the house; the child’s skeleton laid beside her, and Meg felt that illness rise up again. Bloodied rags surrounded her, an empty chair, and with a quick glance down she saw her ankle wound had been crudely bandaged up with some of the rags. They weren’t the medkit bandages at all, which told her that none of her fellow survivors had been the ones to fix her up.

She grimaced, feeling quite hopeless all of a sudden. “Guys?!” She cried out desperately, finding it hard to breathe between the rope and her previous injuries. Her entire body was sore in this position on the hard floor. Why had she done this? It didn’t make any sense to her at all! “Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered to herself, hands tightening and loosening, trying to find any sort of weakness in the knot. There was none. She hung her head as far as she could, red strands falling in her face. She wished the spider creature would just stab her now. Eat her. Whatever it did when she was on the hook. It’d be better to lose this round and come back another time stronger, healed, and a bit saner than she felt now.

“M-Meg,” the familiar timid voice whispered from the open doorway next to her. She immediately glanced back up. And dammit, she just could not stop that hope from developing whenever something positive in this hellhole happened. She merely smiled at Dwight, but it quickly faded when he limped into the room, holding his side.

“She got you?” Meg asked him weakly, as he slowly knelt down next to her. He was clearly in pain as well, blood and water soaking through his shirt.

“Yeah, but I got away for now,” Dwight replied. “She’s pretty… vicious.” He sniffled, and Meg’s heart ached when she realized that he had been crying. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise.” They both knew that was a promise that could not truly be kept.

She was tired, so, so tired of this whole thing. “Dwight… It’s alright. Forget about me this time, okay?” As much as she wanted to beg him to get her out of this strange predicament. “Go get Jake and David and get out of here.” This forest had to have similar exit gates like the other places they had been trapped in, right?

He hesitated, allowing himself to sit by her. “… _It_ got them. They’re already gone.”

“…Oh,” she could only manage, sorrow seeping into her soul. Even if one of them were sacrificed, it felt like a loss for all of them. “Oh.”

“David told me to say sorry for him,” Dwight offered with a sad smile of his own. “He went to help Jake and she got him.” He gave a pained wheeze that resembled a laugh. “He’s sorry for what he said to you. Told me you could kick him in the balls next time for it.”

She laughed too, only to choke back another cough from the chafing rope around her throat. “Maybe I will,” she replied. “…I don’t know why, but I actually kinda liked him after all of that.”

“Believe it or not, me too,” Dwight acknowledged, before he dug in his pockets and Meg squinted to see he pulled out some sharp shard of glass. “I found something… to help you,” he stuttered, examining the ropes on her hands and arms first. He swallowed, “I’m going to start cutting, o-okay? I don’t want to cut you, so let me know if-”

“Dwight,” she interrupted, urging him onward with a shaky slight nod. “Just do it.” And the young man nodded, and started a slicing motion, his hand trembling so badly that Meg actually feared he’d nick her skin. Well, better to bleed out and die quickly than be tied up here for some reason. “There’s so much rope,” she said softly. “I don’t even know why she did this.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, managing to slice through the first layer of one of the ropes. God, the Huntress had really made sure that she wouldn’t escape from this easily. “Meg, I am going to be honest. I’m scared for you.” She stared at him questioningly. And he elaborated. “This isn’t… well. Normal for them. If you know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “And I really don’t want to think about it anymore. It freaks me the fuck out.” She grimaced, “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Okay,” he relented. “What’d you have in mind?”

Maybe it was her exhaustion or general grogginess, or her desperate desire to have something normal in her life. That, and talking with Dwight or any other of her fellow survivors helped to alleviate their misery. So, she decided to go for it. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe… _The Conjuring 2_?”

Dwight was so shocked, that he momentarily stopped cutting, looking at her almost dumbly. “Huh? The horror movie?”

She nodded, “Yep. The one that just came out.” God, she still hoped it was playing in theatres, dammit. Or even that it was still 2016. It was so hard to tell how much time had passed since she had gone on that jog, or even if any time had passed at all. “I was thinking… You know, if we ever do get out of here. For real, anyway.” She paused, and looked at him with an affectionate smile on her face. “You and I should go see it together. Like on a date. With popcorn and everything.”

She swore that even with his wound and the building fear that all of them experienced, he blushed. “I… I…” He stuttered, and he was so tongue-tied that it was absolutely adorable and made her feel a million times better for at least a moment. Dwight swallowed noticeably, “S-Sorry. No one’s ever asked me on a date before.” There was a moment of silence, and she gave a small chuckle. “No! That’s not what I meant to say!” She only laughed a little harder, hurting herself in the process. But she didn’t really give a shit at the moment.

“I think it’s cute,” she said honestly. “And I hardly think the movie would be scary at all after what we’ve been through.”

“I think you’re right,” he said, finally cutting her first arm free, allowing Meg to freely move her arm. He gently, soothingly brushed his hand against hers, before he set about to cut her other arm free. “… Hey Meg?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d really love to see that movie with you.” And maybe he thought he said the wrong thing, because he added, “O-Or do anything. I’d like to do anything with you.” And the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, wide smiles and sharing this peaceful moment.

Before Meg could respond; there was no warning of any kind, no loud footsteps or predatory humming. One second Dwight was smiling at her, and the next, the large body of the Huntress whirled around the doorway with a feral grunt and brought her heavy axe down upon Dwight’s shoulder, making him collapse in a heap on top of Meg. The _crack_ of his shoulder bone was disgustingly audible.

They both screamed; Dwight’s being one of agony as blood gushed from his new wound, drenching Meg in it as well. Meg screamed from pure primal fear; the terror and the bloodshed was back, brutally ripping them out of their pretense that it wasn’t. Screaming, screaming, it was all they were surrounded by. She was crushed by Dwight’s weight on her body, and on her own leg wound, and it _hurt_. It hurt so badly to know they truly could never win, and they would be punished for thinking otherwise. Dwight started sobbing, and Meg could do nothing to help him, as the Huntress, with a brutal ferocity to her, ripped him off of her like he was the bad guy. She grabbed Dwight roughly by his shirt collar, tossing him across the wooden floorboards, his back hitting the opposite wall. She was pissed; huffing and standing over him threateningly as he attempted to crawl away.      

Meg had do something. Fast. Maybe… With her free hand, her entire body trembling from fear, she seized the back of the Huntress’ long grab and tugged. “Please…” She begged, and she wasn’t above begging for his life. “No, no, no… Fuck! Dammit, please don’t!” She appealed to the killer directly, and the Huntress peered down at her, momentarily pausing. Visibly relaxing. Meg swallowed, voice shaky and ridden with panic. “J-Just let him go. You have me… You have me fucking tied up, okay?!” The Huntress’ head tilted. “You don’t need to kill him. Please, please, for the love of god, if you can hear what I’m saying, don’t do this!” She had never begged for mercy from the killers, because she knew they were not capable of it. But the Huntress was an enigma, and perhaps this time it would be different.

The large woman knelt beside her, and rose a dirty hand to wipe away the tears that fell from Meg’s eyes. Meg shuddered, but did not say another word and allowed her to do whatever the hell she pleased. The Huntress uttered some shushing noises again, and only then did Meg realize that she was whimpering. _Whimpering_. She attempted to quiet herself, as the woman touched her face, touched over her hair, like she was checking over her in some fucked-up way. She gently touched Meg’s hand, and for a moment she thought that the Huntress would actually take her pleas into account.

Instead, she seized her hand violently, making her gasp from the force of it, and slammed her hand back against the wall. “W-What?! NO! NO!” She cried, as the Huntress re-tied her arm, even tighter than it had been before, despite the frayed rope from Dwight’s cutting. “PLEASE!” Meg shouted at her, and once the woman stood up again, she was back to all rage. Ignoring Meg for the time being, she turned on Dwight who was attempting to keep himself quiet except for the occasional broken sobs. She froze for a moment more, as if contemplating something. She took a step towards Dwight, and paused again, looking up. _Like something was talking to her_. With a huff of annoyance, the Huntress dropped her axe on the ground and stalked towards him. She roughly picked him up, with no care towards his wounds.

“Bye Meg…” Dwight weakly said as he was led away towards the other end of the house, Meg straining, nearly choking herself to at least see where they were going. Her heart broke at his words, soft cries turning into full out sobs as he spoke. “See you next time.” It was the last thing he said to her before the Huntress took him downstairs to the basement.

“No! Fuck you! You fucking-!” She sobbed desperately, the sound of Dwight’s flesh being pierced by the hook and his bloodcurdling scream of pain making her nearly dizzy with fright, disgust, and horror. He screamed and screamed and the Huntress remained downstairs until Meg heard his struggles to stay alive. She was shaking, wishing she could bury her head into her arms and block out the dread that was now her life. She flinched, her head pounding at the final sound of Dwight’s life. One last scream, and black smoke surrounded the house. _Pure evil_ , she thought, and the sound of what was no doubt the fucking spider demon spearing him in the chest and finally killing him…

“Oh god,” she mourned, chest heaving with exertion, body just covered in bloody sweat and grime. Somehow, this time around really felt a lot worse than it normally did. She cried for Dwight, and Jake and David. She cried for herself and Claudette and Nea and Min. She cried for all of her friends and the lives they had lost. She cried for her mother and the dad she never knew. She cried because she was _never_ going to get out of this. She sobbed for a long time, tears streaming down her dirtied face, wishing she could just die for real this time. Permanently. So she wouldn’t have to keep going through this. But even so, through her experiences, she had been hardened. Once her outpour of pent-up emotions was done with and her sobs returned to pitiful cries, only then did the Huntress return back upstairs.

Meg laid her head against the wall in defeat, finding it easier to lay back rather than strain against the ropes anymore. It burned and rubbed against her skin. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’d end up bleeding from the tightness of them.

“Да?” The Huntress finally spoke, and when Meg spared her a glance tiredly, it seemed like she wasn’t even talking to her. She was looking up again, like she had with Dwight before. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was somehow talking to the spider. The woman waited, breaths steady and tense. Before she let out a puff of air, nodding sharply. She whispered under her breath, like she was repeating something. “Ты хорошо поработала, последняя твоя...” And slowly, she strode over to Meg. She knelt again, and gently turned her face towards her. And her humming began anew, as she undid Meg’s braids, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Stop…” she begged, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just stop…” But of course she didn’t. She hummed to Meg, retrieving a cloth that was already ridden with old blood, to wipe her face. She didn’t react and allowed her to do it. What was the point of fighting back anymore? Delighted, the Huntress’ voice lilted in pitch, becoming sweeter and softer as she sung to her. And Meg had to admit… aside from the circumstances, it was a pretty song. She was silent and passive, as the Huntress redid her hair, tying it into clumsy braids, playing with it for what must have been hours. It felt like it.

“Обитель матери,” the killer stated softly, gesturing to the house around her with what seemed like a bit of sorrow. But she wasn’t sad for anything, Meg knew. She had won, and she had Meg right where she wanted.

“I don’t understand,” she simply said for the thousandth time. “I don’t speak your language.” She was numb and exhausted, and didn’t really care what happened to her anymore.

The Huntress looked at her, before gesturing at herself. “Анна... Я думаю что меня зовут Анна.” That, Meg could understand.

“I don’t give a shit, Anna,” she said. But regardless of her tone, the killer only seemed pleased she had used her name. She left Meg for a second, tidying up the area, including the child’s skeleton, gazing at for a long time, before she moved that to other space in the house as well. “You’re a fucked up, piece of shit, Anna,” Meg snapped at her, though it did not phase her, and she sighed. It was still raining and wind occasionally seeped its way in through the open parts of the house. The Huntress, on the table that was further in the center, collected a variety of jugs and pots.

She glanced over at Meg, almost like to make sure she was still there. “Это твой дом сейчас, зайка.”

“I don’t care.”

“Со мной.”

The Huntress loomed over Meg for an ungodly amount of time, replacing her dirty bandage soaked with blood, with another dirty bandage. Meg grimaced, imagining how infected and diseased that would be had they been in the real world. But she was counting the moments until she would die, and imagined it would have to come soon. Right? Sooner rather than later, the killer would snap out whatever bullshit she was going through and snap her neck and kill her. She stepped out for a moment, taking one of the rusty pots with her and Meg turned her head to watch with a growing disinterest.

_I want to die. Just do it already!_

She came back inside, carefully holding the jug that was now filled with the rainwater from outside. She knelt back beside Meg and carefully tilted her face to the side, even with the rope, and hummed the song to her again, and forced the water, darkened with the material from inside the cup into her mouth. She nearly gagged, attempting to turn away, but with her other hand, the Huntress held her steady and forced the metallic liquid down her throat. Only when she swallowed every last drop, did Anna turn away.

Meg heaved, blood and metal and rust all in her mouth at once. “That was disgusting.” She spat. “Just go away!” She shouted at her, but the woman just stared and stared, and Meg bit down the sudden urge to scream and scream. She had been thirsty of course, but even if she had been able to just drink the rain falling directly from the sky… But was it even real rain at all? What was real in this place?

Hours passed, and Meg found herself dozing off and on, sleeping away the pain of her leg. Whenever she awoke, she’d open her eyes to have found the woman sitting in the chair beside her, just _staring_. She preferred to sleep and avoid all contact with the Huntress. She’d wake to feel her patting her hair or checking on her ropes. She’d wake other times and just see the killer staring off into the distance contemplatively.

There was once where she woke up, completely sore and circulation lost in her hands, that she grimaced at the sudden piercing feeling of hunger. Food. That was a thing she hadn’t thought about in a long time. It was like everything reset once the survivors usually escaped or were sacrificed; they didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, or weren’t here long enough to feel it anyway. But suddenly, she could, and the hunger stirred in her stomach, gurgling and painful. Had it been hours? Or had it been longer than that? Whenever she’d strain against the ropes to get a glance outside; it was _always_ raining, foggy and dark outside. No night or day. It was just pain, and Meg knew she didn’t have to look down at her leg to see that it was filthy and infected.

She glanced up, and with no surprise the Huntress was sitting nearby, seemingly taking care of her axe. She stopped once she realized that Meg was looking at her. The rope felt like it had constricted around her throat, and every time she even turned her head it dug into her skin.

She swallowed, “I’m starving.” And it really felt like she had not eaten in _weeks._ It felt like everything was happening all at once, and had developed so quickly. She was going to die at this rate, and everything would right itself again. “I’m going to die. Slowly. There’s no fucking food here.” She told her, head resting against the rotten wood walls. Her insides felt like they were eating themselves out. Claudette had discussed the science of this place once, wondering if things here occurred at an accelerated or decelerated rate. Meg admittedly didn’t understand or want to understand the concept much, but it was coming to bite her the ass. “Just kill me,” she uttered. “Just end this shit.”

Anna studied her for a moment, worriedly checking over her, only making Meg grunt in annoyance. She gently brushed her face in a motherly way, before she stomped out of the house, axe in hand, much to Meg’s confusion.

“Where are you going? There’s no… animals here. No one else.” But the Huntress did not heed her words and was already gone, leaving Meg to the sound of rain overhead. The next time she awoke, it was to her heavy footsteps coming back, dragging something behind her. Meg sat forward, ice filling her veins when she saw what the Huntress carried

It must have been from the smaller hunting shack, as it was the rotting corpse of one of the deer she had seen earlier, and her stomach swirled at the sight of it. It was disgustingly old, and she stared at Anna with a horrified sort of shock, wondering if the woman was serious about this. She dragged the deer in, decay smell immediately assaulting her nostrils. She watched the morbid scene, the Huntress heaving the deer carcass on the center table by the fireplace. She took one of the smaller hatchets off her belt and began to hack away at the animal like she’d done this a million times before.

“No… no. You can’t be serious,” Meg said in disbelief, the sound of metal hitting and splitting flesh, blood splattering onto the Huntress’ garb as if it already wasn’t stained with the blood of her victims. She hacked away various bits and pieces and set them aside, Meg cursing God, if he really was real anyway, for having her in this hell.

_She didn’t cook the meat_.

“Еда,” the Huntress suddenly said, taking the strips of meat, blackened with rot and age, and threw them into one of her smaller pots. She hummed the song again, and by now, the melody was beginning to sink into Meg’s own head. She walked back over and kneeled, offering her a piece of it.

“Fuck no!” She screamed, turning her head away, panic filling her. “No, no! Are you fucking stupid?! That… That’s so old! It’s disgusting! It’s probably not even real!” But of course, she knew the woman couldn’t understand. Did she even know that his place wasn’t the same forest where she once lived? Unlikely.

The Huntress seized her head, and said chiding words, forcing the deer meat into her mouth, holding her struggling head still. Meg screamed, immediately regurgitating the disgusting meat, coughing up a lung as tears stung her eyes. But that did not stop the Huntress. She spent hours coaxing her to eat, all humming. She forced her to chew and swallow. Meg got sick quickly and ended up vomiting it all back up.

And the Huntress still hummed her lullaby.

She was dying now, after some time had passed, she wasn’t exactly sure. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Her neck had been flayed open, rope dug and tore her skin. The same for her wrists. She was too weak to speak, too weak to move.

But the Huntress still hummed.

She thought of her friends, wondering how long it had been since she’d seen them. Meg wondered if they were still here. If they had faced other killers while she was still stuck here. The Huntress hummed, when she was dying, with her leg black and swollen with gangrene, fever overtaking her. She was hot and cold and tired and _dead_. It was only a matter of time after all, and Meg was hopeful to finally die and escape, for at least a little bit.

The Huntress hummed, redoing her hair, and keeping her still. But it was a sad sort of humming as Meg drifted in and out of consciousness. She played with her braids, grip tightening as she became less and less responsive. In her delirium, Meg might have hummed with her as she died, song embedded in her mind forever.

 And for the next time she came back alive, and heard humming, she would cut off her braids before she let the Huntress touch them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ты хорошо поработала, последняя твоя... - the game's translation of the mori. "You've worked well, the last is yours."  
> Обитель матери - Mother's Dwelling   
> Анна... Я думаю что меня зовут Анна. - Anna, I think that my name is Anna.   
> Это твой дом сейчас, зайка - This is your home now, bunny.   
> Со мной - With me.   
> Еда - Food.

**Author's Note:**

> Не ложися на краю. Придёт серенький волчок - "Do not lay at the edge (of the bed). A gray wolf will come." (The Huntress sings this line from her lullaby - "Баю-баюшки-баю." 
> 
> Милая девушка - Dear girl 
> 
> Красивая милая девушка - Beautiful dear girl


End file.
